


This is the Way That Homestuck Ends II: Eclectic Boogaloo

by mitspeiler



Series: This is the Way That Homestuck Ends [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blasphemy, Cocaine, Crack, Deceit, Funny, Lies, Like, Multi, The Prince of Egypt, actually, total crack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 19:04:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/930000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitspeiler/pseuds/mitspeiler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I was wrong, those files I stole last time were fakey-fakes.  I have since braved Hussie's volcano lair, braving hordes of drunker Irishmen he painted green for some reason and stolen the true, 100% canonical ending for Homestuck from our dark god-king's personal computer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Passion of the Crab

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rezi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rezi/gifts).



            In the calm before the storm, a dozen children who have seen too much sit together at a dinner table prepared by the only sane and rational adult left in the universe, Mr. Crocker.  Karkat Vantas slices a loaf of fresh bread and distributes it.  “Take this my friends, for this is my body.  Do this in remembrance of me.”

            “Um,” said Jane, “It was really nice of you to cut the bread Karkat….” She trailed off, not wanting to set off the strange, angry alien man.  Karkat simply nodded gravely.

            He took a pitcher and poured out several glasses, filling them with a rich, deep red beverage.  “And this is my blood of the covenant,” he said, “which is poured out for many.”  Everyone looked at him funny, and Karkat became troubled in spirit.  “Verily I say to you, that one of you will betray me this night!”

            But they stopped paying attention to him, because at that moment Dave walked in wearing a fabulous new hat.  It was a bright green bowler with a shamrock in the brim.  “That’s a pretty sweet hat bro!” said John as the two bumped fists in broitude.

            “Thanks,” said Dave.  “It only cost me thirty pieces of silver.”

            “I say old sport,” said Jake, acting as chummy as if he’d known the other boy for more than two days, “that is a sizable amount of spondoolicks!  How did you acquire such a multitude of sawbucks?”

            “Someone bet me I wouldn’t kiss Karkat,” he said, and at that precise moment a version of himself from a few minutes ago time-travelled into the room and made out with Karkat most-sloppily, then wiped his mouth in an exaggerated fashion and disappeared.  At that moment Her Imperial Condescension appeared with a horde of Imperial Drones.  “That’s the one he kissed!” she shouted, aiming her trident, “arrest him!”

            Kanaya leapt onto the table, chainsaw whirring.  “Run away, Karkat!  I’ll hold them off!”

            Karkat shook his head serenely.  “Those who live by the chainsaw will die by it,” he said, patting her knee conciliatorily.  “I’m turning myself in.”

            “I’ll die before they take you!” she insisted.

            Jade muttered to Rose, “Why do they only want Karkat?  And why is he acting all weird?”  Rose shrugged.  “Maybe he got into some sopor I’ll be damned if I know.

            “Kanaya,” said Karkat testily, “before the night is out, you will deny me three times.”  Distraught, she fell to her knees and wept, and Karkat was taken away.

 

 

*blaring _Harlequin (rock version)_ as the title comes up*

This is the Way Homestuck Ends II: Eclectic Boogaloo


	2. Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny

            John’s hammer clashed against Caliborn’s staff, crackling with the blackest of majjycks, and the blow was felt down to the very center of the planet, but still the Lord of Time held.  With surprising elegance, he wielded the staff like a fencer’s foil, its heavy cap humming with eldritch music from beyond stars.  He had learned quickly that his enemy was swift and dangerous; it was probably a common mistake to assume that someone wielding a hammer the size of a light van would move slowly, but this blue asshole was a goddamned lightning bolt and the two-ton warhammer may as well have weighed as much as a hickory switch in his hands, nevermind that each swing could wipe out entire civilizations.  But combat was what Caliborn had been born for, and, admittedly, literally the only thing he could do with anything resembling competence.  His mighty thrust broke John’s defenses and should have torn right through his midsection, but John was the Heir of Breath.  He was the Breeze, and the wind, and the essence of life.  Of course he fucking dodged.  Exploding into a whirlwind of purest blue, he materialzed behind Caliborn and snapped back his hammer—

            And Caliborn shot him in the face with a revolver that was just suddenly in his hand.  “CHECKMATE, MOTHERFUCKER,” he said, trying to twirl the weapon and failing.  He decided on simply blowing off the smoke when a burst of rainbow-colored light burned froth from John’s blood and his head reformed.

            “Ouch!” he said, rubbing his forehead.  “You are an asshole, man!”

            “WHAT?!  NO!  I KILLED YOU!  YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO STAY DEAD!  THAT’S WHAT THAT MEANS!”

            “Can you stop shouting?” John asked.  “Who actually shouts all the time?  Even Karkat isn’t that angry in person, it’s just a typing quirk.”  John thought for a second.  ‘Does your species have like, a Caps Lock button?  I guess I’ve heard of weirder things—” Caliborn roared and the eldritch Black Sceptre of Majjyckal Enyrjjies transformed into a Tactical AKM with a 74 style muzzle break and unloaded a salvo of eldritch bullets into John’s chest.  Within seconds he regenerated again.

            “Can you stop that?!” he shouted, and while Caliborn was distracted punched him full in the mouth, knocking out the Cherub’s remaining teeth and throwing him to the ground.  John brought the hammer down on top of Caliborn’s skull and reduced it to a pile of chunky salsa.  His job done, he turned on his heel, ready to teleport back to—

            “HEY DON’T WALK AWAY FROM ME YOU FUCKING HOMO!” Shouted Caliborn, as the rainbow-colored deity magic resurrected him as well.  He muttered under his breath, “shit is that what’ I’ve been doing to people?”

            John turned back around and jabbed his finger towards Caliborn’s face, movement so sudden that the boy flinched. “Hey I don’t know what you’ve heard,” John said angrily, a foul expression etched onto his face, “but listen up because I’m only gonna say this one more time.  I am so tired of all you shippers out there!  I swear to God if I find another slashfic where I’m not only shipped with one or both of my best bros but _also_ reduced to a giggling Shota uke keet, I am going to bust a fucking nut!  And I AM NOT A HOMOSEXUAL!”

            Caliborn stared in fear and confusion.  “DA FUCK’S A HOMOSEXUAL!?” he roared.  “I’VE BEEN CALLING YOU HOMO SAPIENS THIS WHOLE TIME.  DID I MISREAD THE FUCKING LABEL?”

            John laughed under his breath.  “Sorry for exploding at you like that.”  He sat down on a convenient rock and thought for a moment.  “Okay, we have a problem.”

            “I’LL SAY,” said Caliborn, plopping down on a nearby rock.  He set the weapon down and scratched his chin, leaving deep red scores on his green flesh.  John cringed.  “YOU’D THINK US FIGHTING EACH OTHER WOULD BE ENOUGH TO COUNT AS EITHER A HEROIC OR JUST DEATH.  WE’RE LIKE, FUCKING IDIOLOGICAL OPPOSITES.  WHAT’S GOING ON?”

            John scratched his head.  “I think…we keep sucker punching each other and that’s not really honorable enough to count one way or the other.”

            “THAT IS SUCH BULLSHIT,” said Caliborn, “BUT THEN AGAIN THIS WHOLE GAME IS BULLSHIT.  WITH BULLSHIT RULES FOR LOSER BABIES.  WHO ARE DEAD.  WRITTEN BY SOME YELLOW ASSHOLE.  WHO IS ALSO DEAD AND POSSIBLY A LOSER BABY.” 

            John nodded in agreeance.  “We need to find another way to settle this conflict.”

            Caliborn screamed and grabbed his head.  “OH GOD WHY!?”

            “What?  What happened?” John asked concernedly.  “Wait, are you dying?  Because that would actually be pretty fucking awesome!  No offense!”

            “I HAD ONE OF THOSE BRAIN THINGS,” said Caliborn, “WHERE YOUR MIND MAKES BABIES.”

            John squinted.  “An…idea?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, this one actually has a plot instead of just jokes. Well, technically speaking it's a series of jokes strung together by a 'plot'.


	3. Night Falls

            With Karkat dead, having been crucified on a giant 69 and laid to rest in the center of Derse and Kanaya sitting vigil, Dave turned inexplicably evil and John sent off who knew where, the Homestucks were forced to fight their final battle without all three of the leading male protagonists and the, like, third strongest female protagonist in terms of pure fighting skill.  Jane had resurrected a horde ten million strong consisting of ancestors, dancestors, doomed selves, and fallen guardians, augmented by a legion of the dead led by the right honorable Viceroy Bubbles von Salamancer.  It would not be enough.

            Across the battlefield, the Empress and her legion of Drones, agents, biological horrors and leprechauns, all the scum and vermin of the infinitude of existence gathered beneath a dark banner for the fight that would decide the fate of all existence.  Behind her, seated upon a black throne four stories high engraved with hellish and profane scenes of Cherubic destruction and copulation, encrusted with gold and gems so gaudy that only a Cherub would think it looked cool, and veiled from sight with a canopy of dragon leather, was Lord English.  This battle was being fought solely for his amusement; as soon as he entered the fray, it would be lost.

            “We’re all going to die,” said Calliope.  “Again.”  She was sitting a comfortable armchair, looking out the window of the castle that had been chosen for their final stand.  Across a pine forest sprouting from a field of black and white tile, her brother’s throne burned like a black beacon.

            “Yeah,” said Roxy, nodding.  “It…really wasn’t any fun the first time.  And I was only dead for a little bit, unlike you.”  Calliope grimaced.  “Hey, do you want to like, makeout a little?” asked Roxy brightly.

            Calliope shook her head.  “I’m just not in the mood, you know?”  In truth the Cherub had gotten plenty of ass in the afterlife and now considered herself out of Roxy’s league, but the homelier girl was her friend and she didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

            “That’s what everyone says!”  Roxy shouted, stamping her foot.  “Why doesn’t anybody love me?!”  She ran out the door.  “I’m not ugly!”

            “It’s the way you carry yourself, love,” Calliope called after her.  “You don’t have any self-confidence!”

            Elsewhere in the castle, Eridan smelled desperation.  “Looks like I’m getting laid tonight,” he said, cracking his knuckles.  He ran off, in such a hurry that he left his wand behind.

           

            Cronus pulled out his switchblade comb to give his hair a last once-over before nightfall.  He realized his hair was still perfect from the last time he combed it five minutes ago.  “Ey!” he said, giving himself a pair of thumbs-ups.

            “Not bad,” said Cronus, stepping into the room.  This was another Cronus, wearing some weird dweeby black cape.  His hair was intotal disarray, and he still had his glasses on.

            “Hey, if you’re gonna hang with me fry, you gotta ditch the specs and learn a little groomin’, know what I’m sayin?”  said Cronus.

            The other Cronus shook his head.  “I can’t believe I ever let myself become you,” he muttered.  “Look at yourself, you’re some kind of weird furry but for humans.  I at least tried to fulfill my destiny.  I became a real wizard and died a heroic death.”  He produced a wand and conjured a stream of white light and spheres filled with the colors of the sky.

            “Magic isn’t real!” said Cronus, afraid.

            The other Cronus slapped him.  “Where the fuck do you think you are?  You’re on a planet made of tile that was towed here by a hornless alien witch, and you’re about to fight a god-slaying demon and his army of leprechauns.  I’d hoped you’d realized by now that all the people who told you magic wasn’t real were just trolling you, but clearly you’re just retarded.”

            “Don’t you badmouth me, you Harry Potter lookin’ motherfucker—” The other Cronus pressed his hand against Cronus’s mouth.  “I’m not here to get into an argument with you.  I’m here to restore your Hope.”  Cronus raised an eyebrow quizzically.  “Look, we’re both pretty hopeless when it comes to the quadrants,” said the other Cronus reasonably, and Cronus’s eyes widened as he came to a realization.  “Come on, I know you’ve thought about it, because we used to be the same person and I remember thinking about it.  Like, ‘damn, if only I could just date myself, then it would be perfect,’ you know—?”

            Cronus grabbed the other Cronus and kissed him.

 

            “So I hear you rejected Roxy’s advances,” said Jake, sitting down in front of Calliope.  Her mouth dropped.  She had yet to see his god-tier outfit.  “It’s like, okay, she’s not actually that bad looking, you know?” he said.  Calliope heard nothing and just nodded.

            “So maybe you could have just…indulged her?” he said, not understanding why the alien girl was gaping at him.  “This may be our last night on Earth—er, in the universe.”  Calliope nodded, a smile creeping onto her face, cheeks becoming steadily paler green.

            “Er… are you even listenin—?”  Calliope leapt on top of Jake and tore his shirt off.

 

            Rose sighed exaggeratedly.  “Everyone is fucking right now but us,” she declared.

            “Fucking what?” asked Jade, sounding bored.

            “Each other, of course,” said Rose.

            Jade laughed.  “What, like all of them?”

            Rose nodded gravely.  “That’s… _weird_.” Jade said after a long pause.

            “There’s so many more important things to be doing,” Rose agreed.

            “Hey,” said Jade.  “I wonder…who my alternate selves are hooking up with?  I mean, I guess if I had to pick anybody here—”

            “Rufioh,” said Rose.  “Almost all of your alternate selves who are not in a committed relationship are currently copulating with some manifestation of Rufioh Nitram.”

            Jade raised an eyebrow.  “Who the _fuck_ is Rufioh Nitram?”  Rose produced the book, in which she’d compiled a reference list of all thirty-eight significant characters, and showed jade a picture of Rufioh.

            Jade stared dumbly at the picture for about five minutes.  “I’m getting one before they run out!’ she declared, running from the room.  “Bye Rose, see you tomorrow!”

            Rose was left alone with the ticking of the clock.  “Finally,” she said with an eye-roll, and started reading the trashy novel she’s stolen from Karkat, God rest his soul, so long ago.

 

            Roxy and Eridan emerged from their bedroom the next morning, looking equally disheveled, confused and satisfied.  Across from them, the door opened, revealing Jake and Calliope, looking the same way.  Wordlessly, the four walked towards each other.

            “Many nights we’ve prayed,” said Roxy, “with no proof anyone can hear.”  By the end of it she was singing, her voice a clear if unpracticed alto.

            “In our hearts a hopeful song,” Eridan sang, holding her hand, “we barely understood.”  He is a light, boyish baritone.

            “Now we are not afraid,” Calliope sang in her lovely mezzo-soprano, leaning her head on Jake’s shoulder, “Although we know there’s much to fear.”

            “We were moving mountains long before we knew we could!” Jake’s voice was a resounding, heroic baritone, its rich intricacies filling the castle with…Hope.  He took Calliope’s hand and raised it high.  She took Roxy’s.

            “There can be miracles when you believe!” shouted Cronus, taking Eridan’s hand.  “Though Hope is frail, it’s hard to kill!” the other Cronus finished, his tenor untarnished by cigarette smoke.  He took Jake’s free hand, completing the circle.  The six lovers sang in unison:

 

Who knows what miracles,  
You can achieve?  
When you believe  
Somehow you will!  
You will when you believe!

 

            In another part of the castle, Jade nuzzled against a slightly terrified pair of TavrosNitrams whom she had somehow mistake for their much sexier dancestors.  She kissed one on the neck and he shivered.

 

Jade:

in this time of fear,  
when prayer so often proved in vain :(  
hope seemed like the summer birds  
too swiftly flown away…. :(  
yet now im standing here!!  
with heart so full i can't explain :D  
seeking faith and speaking words  
i never thought id say!! 

Everyone:

  
ThErE cAn Be MiRaClEs  
Wwhen you believve!  
THOUGH HOP3 1S FR41L,  
D--> 1ts HARD to ki11  
:33< Who knows what meowracles  
yoU can achieve?  
sOMEHOW,,, yOU, uH,, wILL, }:)  
You w)(al--E wh--En you b--Eli—Ev--E! 38D  
  
The Serkets: 

  
A-shir-ra la-do-nai, ki ga-oh ga-ah!  
A-shir-ra la-do-nai ki ga-oh ga-ah!  
Miiiiiii-cha-mo-cha 8a-elim adonaaaaaaaai!  
Miiiiiiii-ka-mo-cha ne-darrrrrrrr-ba-ko-desh!  
Na-chi-tah v'-chas-d'-cha am zu ga-al-ta!  
Na-chi-tah v'-chas-d'-cha am zu ga-al-ta!  
A-shi-ra, a-shi-ra, A-shi-raaaaaaaa!  
  
Everyone: 

  
ThErE cAn Be MiRaClEs  
Wwhen you believve!  
THOUGH HOP3 1S FR41L,  
D--> 1ts HARD to ki11  
:33< Who knows what meowracles  
yoU can achieve?  
WHEN YOU BELIEVE  
sOMEHOW,,, yOU, uH,, wILL, }:D  
Now You Will,  
Y0u will when you believe! 0u0

(wait that s0unded stupid)   
  
Jake and Calliope:

  
YoU will when you believe!

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It wouldn't be one of my stories without hilariously purple prose and a random campy musical number. well technically I've only done that in four of my works, but I always listen to showtunes while I write!  
> Also I guess I must be retarded because I completely failed to make pretty colors :(  
> Oh, I was wrong. I'll leave that there for posterity however.


	4. He is Risen!

            Kanaya wept before Karkat’s tomb for three days.  On the dawning of the third day, she saw that the door to the tomb was open, and was filled with rage.  “Kanaya,” said a voice from behind her, and she lashed out angrily with her chainsaw, slicing the intruder cleanly (or rather quite messily) in half, spurting crimson mutant blood all over the area.  “Oh no!” she shouted, once she saw that she had just slaughtered the newly resurrected Karkat.

            Fortunately He returned from the dead once again, and this time it took Him considerably less than three days.  “WHAT THE THUNDERING FUCK KANAYA?  WERE YOU MOURNING ME OR SPAWN-CAMPING!?  THAT’S THE LAST TIME I DIE FOR _YOUR_ SINS THAT’S FOR SURE!  AND—”

            Any further ranting was cut off by the bone-crushing hug.  Literally; seeing as her friend was now immortal, Kanaya felt there was no longer any need to restrict her vampiric strength.

            “THAT’S ENOUGH,” said Karkat, shoving her off.  His skeloton cracked loudly as it regenerated.  He threw back his drab-looking cape and spread his wings, not delicate gossamer butterfly wings but sturdy moth wings, feathered and scaled in a dozen shades of red, forming the pattern of a pair of eyes, burning with rage.

            “Fucking swoon,” said Kanaya, without a hint of irony.

            “LET’S ROLL!” said Karkat, building up thrust with His wings and kicking up a storm of dust, only to suddenly double over with pain and start dry-heaving.  Kanaya patted him on the back and compressed his head while making shooshing noises as he vomited. 

            After about five minutes of this, he finally hacked up a shining silver sickle, which had a sticky reddish sheen all along its length.  “Disgusting,” Kanaya muttered.  “Why would you eat a sickle Karkat?  It’s clearly bad for the digestion.”

            “SHUT THE FUCK UP,” he muttered, spitting to get the taste out of his mouth.  “IT’S THE SICKLE OF TRUTH.  I’M SUPPOSED TO VOMIT IT AT THE FINAL BATTLE.  SHIT, DIDN’T YOU READ ALL THE EARTH HUMAN PROPHECIES ABOUT THE END TIMES?”

            “I read a few,” said Kanaya, “but most of them were pretty stupid.  They were all off by several years, and were entirely mistaken about a great number of things.”

            “FORTUNATELY I FOUND THE ONE THAT APPLIED TO ME,” Karkat said.  “DON’T WORRY, IT’S ALL GOING ACCORDING TO PLA—”

            “Can you please stop shouting?” she asked, pinching her nose shut.  “You’re spewing your vomit-breath all over me!”

            Karkat sighed.  “Okay, I’m sorry.  I just got overexcited.”  He grinned a manic grin.  “But first do you want to makeout?”

            Kanaya made a face.  “No.  Not at all,” she said, shaking her head emphatically.  “That is literally the last thing I want.”

            “Oh, shit, I forgot you were a lesbian,” said Karkat apologetically.

            “It’s not just that,” Kanay replied, saying, “you’re like…my Earth human sibling.  Even if I was interested in boys it would be far too awkward.”

            “Yeah,” said Karkat, cringingly, “I guess.  I just got the feeling that everyone else was having, like, a massive orgy/musical number right now and we weren’t going to get a chance to join in.  I’m sorry.”

            Kanaya patted him on the cheek.  “It’s okay.”  She continued doing it, and started shooshing him too.  Karkat paled, blanching almost white.  “WAIT WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO BEING A LESBIAN?!”

            “Well,” she said, luminous skin somehow also becoming paler, “with four different kinds of love it would stand to reason that there are about fifteen different kinds of lesbian.  One that only likes girls in all four quadrants, six that only like girls in two quadrants, four that only like girls in three quadrants, and four that only like girls in one quadrant.”

            “Yeah, that’s what I love with my papping, goddamned math,” Karkat snapped.  He picked up the Sickle of Truth, rammed it through his belt, then swept Kanaya up in his arms.  “Let’s get the fuck out of here.  Derse, honestly.  Next time I die, lay me to rest somewhere with fucking flowers.”  And with a mighty beat of His wings, the Second Coming took off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'bout two more chapters I'm assuming, then we can lay this farce to rest until the inevitable third part of the trilogy where he stops caring and just does it so there'll be three of them and new people like it but the old fans are all, 'nah man, he used to have artistic integrity and shit.'


	5. Swing of the Batshit Clock

            Clad in glowing green armor, wielding Caledfwlch, the Knight of Time surveyed his troops.  “Listen up.  Y’all ain’t shit.  Our enemy is a legion of protagonists and you’re a bunch of cannon fodder.  Who cares that we outnumber them a hundred to one even the wimpiest motherfucker on their side is gonna have a body count in the dozens before he coughs up a glob of chocolaty brown lifeblood and gasps out some last desperate declaration of love to one of the girls thus prompting them to go all apeshit and slaughter a whole fucking battalion with her crazy space powers before self-destructing in anguish.  I’m not naming any names but that is almost guaranteed to happen.”

            He hefted his sword and leveled it at a terrified leprechaun.  “But I ain’t letting that happen to you Jimmy.  Everyone under my command is making it through this.  I swear that shit on my turntables.”  He turned, cape billowing out with a flourish.  “I’m genre-savvy.  I read _Discworld_.  I know the secret to living through this kind of shit.  Named characters last longer than anybody.  That’s why I gave you all names.”

            “I have a question sir,” said Milton, a cockney accented Carapacian Brute, lifting his grossly oversized crushing-hand.  He had defected from Prospit early on in the war.  ‘Why did you give us back-stories?”

            Dave stabbed Caledfwlch into the ground and it crackled with green lightning.  “It’s not enough to just have names.  Without a back-story you might as well still be a stuffed animal in the eyes of the cruel god-king that created us to die for his amusement.”

            An armored hoofbeast, like a minotaur but horse-like instead of bull-like and with a heavy udder, raised its forehoof and whinnied curiously.  “No,” said Dave testily, “not Lord English.”  Looking in the vague direction of the reader, he muttered, “The fourth wall is dark and full of terrors.”  Several others raised their hands also and Dave raised his sword above his head, making it flash so brightly that they screamed and looked away from its light.

            “Before you ask,” he said, bringing it down, the foul light dimming to a dull white glow, “I made you learn that song to give you character.  The audience loves artistic characters.  That’ll make it so hard to kill you, you guys. _So hard_.”  It occurred to the gathered horrors that their commander may not have been quite sane.  “Let’s hear it boys,” he said.  “I’ll lead.”

 

Dave:

gather roud ye lads and lasses set ye for a while

hearken to me mournful tale about the emerald isle

lets all raises our glasses to our friends and family gone

and raise our voices in another irish drinking song

consumption took me mother and me father got the pox

me brother drank the whiskey til he wound up in a box

me other brother in the troubles met with his demise

me sister has forever closed her smilin irish eyes

 

            Hesitantly, his troops, comprising almost entirely leprechauns who were all feeling very uncomfortable and slightly offended, complied.

 

Leprechauns:

Now ev’rybody’s died,

So until our tears are dried,

We’ll drink and drink and drink and drink

And then we’ll drink some more!

We’ll laugh and sing and fight

Until the early morning light

Then we’ll throw up pass out wake up

And then go drinking once again!

 

Dave:

kenny died in kilkenny

claire she died in clare

tip in tipperary died out in the derry air

shannon jumped into the river shannon back in june

ernie fell into the urn and tom is his tomb

 

            Dave’s once-superb singing voice was rendered now into a flat, menacing monotone.  He did not realize that he was terrifying his troops, though some small part of him was aware of the fact that he had gone completely insane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I taking this silly premise too seriously? Nah, the finale will fix any feelings you may have had in that direction.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello rezi. I know you liked the first one, but this time I'm actually trying. NOW YOU HAVE SEEN MY TRUE POWER


End file.
